


Vindication

by Luka



Series: We're a Team [14]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Owen and George are caught up in a load of PR crap as the departure for Japan draws nearer.





	Vindication

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a while to knock this episode into shape to my satisfaction! It takes place amidst the four pre-World Cup friendly matches and just before England leave for Japan. The next instalment, which I hope will be along sooner, will see them in Japan!

It was as if someone had flipped a switch. All the tiredness and stress from Italy had melted away in the cauldron that was Twickenham. He was captain of England, he had the ball in his hand and he was flying. And what had been dubbed a second-string England line-up had just beaten a full-strength Welsh side.

“You fucking did it, kiddo! You showed them!” Ben grabbed him and twirled him around.

“We did it!” corrected George. And he looked up the big screen where the 33-19 scoreline was displayed next to the image of him hugging Ben. He knew that no one would remember a friendly for long, but fuck, he was going to enjoy it while he could.

***

George watched the video through and had an attack of what his mum would call the warm fuzzies. He’d known it was good news when he hadn’t received a phone call from Eddie. And the meticulously put-together video from the RFU, which announced both the squad and provided lovely cameos of how they’d all started out in rugby, confirmed his place on the plane to Japan. There he was, knee-high to a grasshopper in his scrum cap. And he smiled at his brother Joe’s comments about how George’s pre-match preparations for the under tens had been as thorough as they were now!

His phone beeped. It was a message from Cips. _Congrats, buddy! You deserve it after all the hard work._

_Thanks, mate. Just sorry you won’t be alongside us._

The reply was phlegmatic. _Don’t write me off yet. I’ll keep plugging on._

_Good! _

_Catch you when I’m back._

_Enjoy your break._

_It’s awesome! Just off to surf and then a bbq on the beach!_

_No need to rub it in! _It was the first time George had attempted that sort of joke with Cips, and he followed it with a line of laughing emojis.

He got the same in return, followed by: _Give Willi a hug from me. And stay strong, buddy. x_

_You too. x _And he’d pressed send before it struck him how weird it was signing off with an x to another player, particularly one he didn’t know well – and particularly given George knew he was one of the least demonstrative blokes on the planet.

***

The RFU had parachuted some PR consultant in from outside. His name was Roderick (“call me Rod”) and he sported a comb-over and a ludicrous hipster-style beard. Ben was sitting next to George and was sniggering under his breath and muttering something that sounded like ‘welease woderwick!’ George, who really didn’t want to be at the meeting in the first place, had no idea what he was going on about and elbowed him in the ribs in a vain attempt to shut him up.

“Now, moving forward, we need to have all our ducks in a row,” said Call Me Rod.

George risked a quick glance at Owen, who looked like he was about to kneecap somebody. With a bit of luck Maro, who was sitting on the other side of Owen, would play the role of peacemaker. Maro caught George’s eye and grimaced. Next to Maro, Mako was looking inscrutable.

“We have several challenges to navigate, so it’s vital that we’re all singing from the same hymn sheet …”

George sighed quietly. The whole thing was a waste of fucking time. There’d been a stack of media shit for the PR people to deal with in the wake of the punch-up in Italy, and then the RFU finally dealing with Ashton and his toady. The decisions on how to deal with it all had been made way above their heads. So this meeting, to which the squad’s senior management element, as Owen, George, Ben, Maro and Mako had been dubbed, had been invited, was just going through the motions.

“First of all, I’ve talked it over with the media team in some detail, and we have recommended that Owen and George don’t do the World Cup video diary for the BBC.”

“Why not? You think we’re gonna turn it into gay propaganda?” snapped Owen.

“Of course not.” Call Me Rod looked thoroughly shocked. “Our concern is that there would be potential conflict with the England Rugby and O2 videos. We must remain on-brand at all times. Of course the press team will put you both forward on a regular basis for media interviews.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

George reached under the table and squeezed Owen’s knee. They could really do without a knock-down, drag-out row on something that was fairly minor in the scheme of things. And he had the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that the BBC’s viewers had been spared some probably rather dour videos of him and Owen talking rugby and ignoring all the cultural delights Japan had to offer.

“Now let me talk you through the rationale for the decisions made in regard to the unfortunate incident in Italy …”

Call Me Rod’s advice could all pretty much be summed up as how to sweep shit under the carpet. The Mike Brown and Ben Te’o clash had been shut down with no comment beyond Eddie refusing to discuss it. Everyone knew they’d both be axed from the squad. A lot of people felt Brownie was the innocent party, but Eddie was clearly clamping down after the disciplinary shit of previous World Cups. Te’o had apologised to the squad for getting drunk, but not for what he’d said in support of his mate Folau. George wondered how long it would take for the full story to leak out.

“We can of course expect some fall-out from the hearing into the homophobic comments on Facebook …”

“Why the hell did it take so long to convene a hearing?” asked Ben. There was no sign of his trademark good humour.

The PR contingent looked at each other and shuffled paperwork in lieu of shuffling their feet.

“Clearly that was unsatisfactory and I’ve made recommendations to avoid a similar thing happening in future,” said Call Me Rod. “Both Saracens and the RFU acted swiftly when it came to the previous incident …”

Everyone around the table, apart from Owen and George, studiously avoided looking at Mako. 

“So it’s unfortunate that the same didn’t happen here. It appears that crossed wires with Sale, as well as people being away on holiday, exacerbated the delay.”

George resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. In the end the pair had been banned for a month and warned as to their future conduct. Neither had apologised, simply parroting that the conversation had taken place on a locked social media account. Sale had also announced that they were fining the pair an undisclosed amount. George thought cynically that it was probably £20 each and a round of drinks in the bar. There must be something in the water up there, given the row about Denny Solomona’s alleged homophobic comment to a Worcester player about 18 months back. Sale had wanted to sign George when he left Bath – he had a feeling he’d dodged a bullet there.

“So you think this sort of shit is acceptable?” Ben pushed his iPad into the middle of the table and pointed out a photo on one of the rugby websites that had been doctored to make it look like Owen was giving George a blow-job. 

George knew where it had come from - it had been taken during training and was actually of JJ doing some running repairs to his kit for him. And he knew nothing would be said to counteract the media and social media abuse he was getting in the wake of his selection for Japan ahead of Cips. Eddie steadfastly refused to comment on his selection policy, which George could understand. He just wished the RFU would grow some balls and condemn the homophobic abuse. 

“Of course not,” said one of Call Me Rod’s sidekicks. “But if we respond, it looks like we’re giving it credence. Engaging with trolls on social media is a no-no.”

“So all you’ll do is parrot that rugby is an inclusive sport, without actually doing anything to back this up?”

More silence. Mako seemed about to say something, but caught George’s eye and closed his mouth.

Eddie, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the meeting, suddenly thumped the table. “Leave it to me. Can we wrap this meeting up? I need to see a man about a dog …”

***

_England coach Eddie Jones has slammed the homophobic abuse aimed at England fly-half George Ford who was this week confirmed in the squad for the World Cup in Japan._

_Ford, the partner of England captain Owen Farrell, is seen as a controversial choice in some quarters following the omission of Danny Cipriani from Jones’ plans._

_“It’s not my policy to comment on team selections - that’s between me and the players,” said Jones. “But I’m not prepared to stand by and watch as vicious filth is spouted about a brave kid who’s spoken out against bigotry and is entitled to live his life with the person he loves. _

_“Social media is a poisonous nest of snakes, and all those people flinging homophobic abuse about need to have a long, hard look at themselves. They should judge someone on their ability to do their job and not their private life._

_“All I’m going to say is that George is a linchpin in the England squad and that he deserves to be on the plane to Japan.”_

***

“Best fitness regime there is!” said George, sprawling face-down across the bed and trying to steady his breathing. It was mid-morning and so far they’d showed no inclination to get up. They’d got in just before midnight and had gone more or less straight to bed. The thought of a few days together before they joined up again with the team was perfect.

“I’ll leave you to tell Eddie and the coaching lads how effective it is!” said Owen, his fingers tracing down George’s spine and toying with his arse.

“Yeah, well, maybe not …” George wriggled as the inquisitive fingers explored further.

“Chicken!” 

“That’s Jonny’s fetish!”

“Too much info, our kid!”

George rolled onto his back and pulled Owen towards him so they could kiss again. And then his arms were looped around Owen’s neck and his legs locked around his waist as Owen rocked gently inside him. And George’s final thought, before he lost the ability to reason coherently, was how perfect it was when their bodies became one.

“Talk to me about Cips,” said Owen suddenly as they lay in a tangle of limbs.

“That’s a right passion-killer,” said George, rubbing his fingers through his hair.

Owen half-smiled and smoothed George’s hair down. “A third of the squad reckon he fancies you. Another third say he’s just being friendly. The other third wouldn’t notice what was going on unless the two of you danced naked on the table at dinner …”

“That wouldn’t be much of a cabaret unless you like bad boys with tattoos or titchy northern lads …”

Owen smiled again, but kept quiet. And George knew that he was going to have to confront the issue.

“I honestly don’t think he fancies me. I’m not exactly his sort, am I? And I’d be really surprised if he was bi. I think he genuinely is trying to put all the crap behind him and trying to make an effort to fit in. He meant it when he congratulated us on the engagement … And …” Shit, he wasn’t sure he wanted to start getting inside his own head about friends and the lack of them …

Owen stayed silent again, but this time he traced his forefinger across George’s cheekbones.

“I dunno … It was good suddenly to have someone else to talk to about rugby. I mean, you weren’t there, and …” He couldn’t say that he’d felt lonely at camp without Owen. That would sound insane when he had so many teammates he knew well around him, and Ben and Jonny were there when he needed them. But George had a reputation for being very reserved off the pitch and had always found it difficult to make friends - he was still slightly shell-shocked by the way Jonny, his polar opposite in almost every way, had muscled his way into his well-ordered life and made himself such an indispensable part of it. 

And then he heard himself saying: “You’re lucky, you have the Saracens lads around you and you’ve grown up with them and you know them well … I dunno, all the moving around we did when I was little, I never really made many friends, apart from you … And it’s not like I’m much good at small talk either … I mean, I know Lenny and Jonny are always there, but it just seemed, you know, easy with Cips, drinking coffee and talking about rugby with someone who’s obviously as crazy about the detail as we are …”

Owen nodded, but didn’t say anything, his fingers entwining with George’s and his lips pressing a quick kiss on George’s palm.

“And he stood up for me when Eddie started being weird … I mean, it’s not like Eddie’s his number one fan anyway, so he didn’t have to … And since then, he’s checked in every so often despite the fact he’s off surfing in California. He said he’d teach me if I wanted to learn …”

Owen’s brow furrowed. “Learn what?”

“How to surf. I dunno, it sounded good. It made me realise how little I’ve done outside of rugby.”

“Georgie, what are you talking about? You hate the sea and swimming! And what do you mean, you haven’t done stuff outside of rugby? Like what? Rugby’s your full-time bloody job …”

“I know … I’ve always wanted to learn to ski, but it’s never seemed worth the risk while I’m still playing. Yeah, I know there’s golf and stuff, but I’m not fussed about football and I’ve only played cricket once in my life and it was boring as all fuck … I dunno, I know I’m not making much sense …”

“Come here.” Owen pulled George into his arms. “Listen to me, our kid. We make a fuck of a lot of sacrifices for rugby, but are you saying they’re not worthwhile?”

“No!” George was genuinely shocked. “Of course not! But I was looking at the photos on Instagram the other day and thinking how much fun Jack and Henry and the Chiefs lads have off the pitch.”

“You on a paddle board’s a worrying thought!”

“I know! But … I told you I wasn’t making much sense. Everything, and I mean everything, I do for rugby is worthwhile. But I’ve never been much good at switching off …”

“Oh, I dunno … You’ve got the cleanest house on the planet …”

“Yeah, yeah, I know! But I meant proper relaxing, not just watching any rugby match I can find. Look, I dunno where we’re going with this conversation … My rugby career won’t last for ever, so I’ll have stuff I can try then. But if it’s Cips you’re worried about, he’ll never be more than a rugby mate. I still feel I don’t really know the bloke. But I feel like I want to give him a chance …”

Owen was silent for a while. Then he said: “I’d be the first to admit that he’s not my sort of player or person. I’ve heard too many stories about him in the past where he hasn’t come out of it well, and I’ve also seen him being a prick. Yeah, I think he is making an effort to fit in, and all that hippy stuff he’s spouting on Instagram seems to work for him. I was talking to Willi about it the other day. He didn’t know him, apart from by reputation, before Cips joined Gloucester. But Willi says he’s been a great guy to have on board, and he’s spent hours working with some of the younger lads like Ollie Thorley. Apparently Ollie thinks the sun shines out of his arse! You know I’d never in a million years tell you who you can and can’t be friends with, Georgie, and I’m sorry if it sounded like I was trying to. But I don’t want anyone or anything to undermine us. We’ve been a bloody brilliant team for years, but it’s a whole new level now everyone knows about us. So we need to be rock-solid.”

George nodded. “No one’s going to come between us, you know that and I know that. I love you too much for that to happen and what we’ve got is unbreakable.”

And then Owen’s arms were tight around him, his face buried in the junction of George’s neck and shoulder. The quiet voice gusted across his ear. “We’ll be together for ever, our kid.”

***

They went to the canalside pub for a late lunch. It was their tradition whenever Owen visited to walk hand-in-hand across the fields and then to sit outside the pub and watch all the boats shuttling in and out of the lock.

“There’s enough garlic here to keep a team of vampires away,” said Owen, making rapid inroads into lasagne and garlic bread.

“Good job I’ve had the same as you, then.”

George’s phone beeped and he picked it up. The message from Ben was to the point.

_Our Tom and your dad have kneecapped some cunt at the media day. See Leics Live site._

George went online and found the story immediately. He’d forgotten that it was the Tigers media call that day. And immediately he felt a rush of anger at the fact any so-called journalist - some idiot from a news agency who he knew was pretty ignorant on rugby – felt the need to ask intrusive questions. The wanker had clearly only turned up to stir personal shit.

_Leicester Tigers club captain Tom Youngs has reacted angrily to claims that fly-half George Ford's well-publicised private life will impact on the team's performances this season._

_England star Ford is the partner of national captain Owen Farrell and the two have announced their engagement. Since they came out after the Six Nations tournament as a response to homophobic comments from Australian player Israel Folau, they have rarely been out of the media spotlight._

_“George is a total professional and would never let his personal life affect his rugby. The fact that he and Owen have been partners for ten years and no one had guessed says it all,” said Youngs._

_“The fact that the Tigers aren’t languishing in the Championship this season is pretty much down to George’s efforts last season after a number of the team were found sadly wanting. He was our player of the season and also the top points scorer in the Premiership. So I’m disgusted that anyone is doubting his commitment and focus. Rugby is an inclusive sport and no one here gives a damn about his private life.”_

_Ford’s father Mike, who is Tigers forwards coach, added: “I find this question very offensive and not because it’s about my son. I’d have the same reaction if it were any other member of the team. The question is blatantly homophobic and wouldn’t have been asked about a straight player. George is the ultimate professional and would never let his private life spill over into his rugby.”_

“Fuckers,” snarled Owen when he read the story. “Well done to Tom and your dad for shutting it down.”

“Yeah …” George tried not to let the despondency sound in his voice.

Owen sensed it, though. “Stay strong, our kid. We’re gonna get to Japan and rub their fucking noses in it.”

***

“How long are you home for?” asked Griselda, treating Owen to a brief smile.

“Just for a few days,” said George, hiding a grin. Owen had clearly now passed muster.

“Good job I’ve stocked your freezer. You both look like you’ve lost weight.”

“Thank you! We’ve been at a hot weather camp in Italy, and we were losing up to 3kg each training session,” said George.

“I’ve no idea what that is in old money, but it sounds too much to me. Now, there are four or five meals in the freezer, and I’ve just put some apple crumbles in the oven. Would you like one of those?”

“Yes please!” said George. Apple crumble was his favourite. “Um, I bought you these from Italy.” He handed over two little parcels, beautifully wrapped by Italian shop assistants. 

“Oh darling, you didn’t have to do that. You were there for work, not for shopping!”

“It’s a thank-you for keeping me fed and keeping an eye on the house,” said George, as Griselda carefully unwrapped the parcels to reveal a silk scarf and a pretty glass ornament from Treviso.

“They’re lovely! I shall wear the scarf at the book group on Wednesday.” She hugged him, and kissed his cheek. She always smelled of nice perfume and of apples. “Now, one of you can come round and get the apple crumble in about an hour.”

***

_Scrum-half Ben Youngs has blasted critics of fly-half teammate George Ford in the wake of coach Eddie Jones’s decision not to select Danny Cipriani for the World Cup in Japan and England’s impressive showings in the four warm-up matches._

_Ford captained England in the first two pre-World Cup friendlies against Wales, and then combined with usual skipper Owen Farrell to spearhead a stunning 57-15 victory against Ireland. The Leicester player also brought a steady hand to proceedings when he came off the bench in the 37-0 win against Italy._

_“George is an absolute class act and it shows just why he’s so important to England,” said Leicester teammate Youngs. “He reads the game better than anyone else I know._

_“In that first match the England team was written off as a second-string line-up. But we played Wales off the park. It was a brilliant collective effort against a powerful Welsh side, but George controlled the game immaculately. And his kicking was 100 per cent. We only lost the return match in Cardiff by a dubious try when we only had 13 players on the field, and it was interesting how quickly the rugby authorities acted to stop that situation happening again._

_“Then George and Owen were awesome against Ireland. Their control and creativity showed how we can take on and beat the best in the world._

_“They’ve both had to put up with disgusting abuse about their private lives. And too many people have doubted George’s abilities. Danny Cipriani is a fantastic player, but George has shown just why Eddie and the rest of us rate him so highly.”_

***

George leaned down and kissed Owen. “How was that?”

“Fucking awesome!” 

They were sprawled across George’s bed, the remains of breakfast on trays on the floor. They’d got a whole day to themselves in between the win against Italy at St James’ Park on Friday night and the flight to Tokyo on Sunday. 

George’s phone rang. It was Ben, laughing like a drain.

“Have you seen the Daily Mail this morning?”

“No,” said George, who tried to give the rag a wide berth where possible.

“They’ve got the story about the wives and girlfriends being able to join the squad at various points.They’ve missed a trick, though.”

“How d’you mean?”

“Never mind WAGs. I’ve decreed on the WhatsApp group that henceforth they’ll be known as WHAGs.”

“What the fuck are you banging on about?”

“Wives, husbands and girlfriends now in these days of equality! It means that if you and Faz can get your end away on tour, so can the rest of us!”

“Belt up, Lenny!” 

Owen, who’d heard most of the exchange, cackled loudly, as did Ben as he terminated the call.

“You know he’ll rip the piss out of you if he thinks you’re embarrassed about it,” said Owen, kissing George’s forehead. “And to be honest, it’s positive if they do take the piss out of us, as it means they see the relationship as normal.”

“I suppose …” George knew that despite all the shit, they’d been right to come out. It would just take him a long time to get used to his private life suddenly being so public.

Owen feathered kisses across George’s cheekbones. “I don’t care who knows about us. I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m proud of you! And we’re gonna be together for this fucking awesome adventure …”

“I know … I can’t quite believe any of it …”

“This time on Monday, our kid, we’re gonna be in Tokyo …”


End file.
